Maybe
by Hermione-2113
Summary: Abby's POV, post 12.3. She can't stop wondering...[Luby] [Chapter for 12.9 up.]
1. Chapter 1

A/n: Yes, it's another song-fic. I'll never learn. But in my defense, I wrote this one and _then_ added the song because it fit so well.

* * *

I closed the door behind me, muscles quivering with the effort it took to do the job slowly and softly. It would be so much easier to let it slam and bolt, and surely he was too far gone to hear even the loudest noise I could make. But I managed to nudge it the rest of the way, heard the subtle click as it settled into place.

The sound somehow sapped the adrenaline from me, and I inched over to lean hard against the wall. But stilling my body couldn't stop my mind from whirling.

Why? Why am I even thinking about this? My life works now. Everything's fallen into place.

I'm a doctor, something that still gives me a little thrill. For so long, I thought it would never happen, and now...the job isn't effortless, but I can handle it. Sometimes I even catch myself relaxing enough to enjoy it.

My family is stable. I don't dare to think fixed or cured, but stable. Maggie and Eric take their meds and stay out of trouble, and we talk now and again. She's making noises about the three of us getting together over the holidays. I'm not sure whether I'm looking forward to it. Still, I can say honestly that I don't have any immediate fear for either of them. There was a time I'd have given anything for that.

Outside of work, there's Neela. One of my biggest surprises in a long time was looking at her and realizing I considered her a friend. I've never been good at friendship, and I wouldn't have thought of Neela as someone I could form a bond with. But it happened and I'm grateful.

There's Susan, too. Between her new job and her new family, she's ridiculously busy, but we find time to chat now and again. Chuck suits her, as does motherhood, and she's doing well. I'm still friendly with most of the nurses.

It's a good life, a content one. I'm happy, when for years I considered it a victory if I wasn't hopelessly miserable.

So why am I letting this one regret cast a shadow over me? Why should I jeopardize the fragile peace I've found chasing something that could bring so much pain?

**I see you now, I think of then,**

**And dwell upon the happiness of way back when.**

**'Cause since you said goodbye,**

**The feelings just won't die.**

**And I still long to hold you now and then.**

I'd accepted it as a fact of life that I was never going to stop wanting him.

I don't know what I expected when I went to him those years ago. Don't remember what I was looking for, or whether I was thinking at all.

But I came away with a desire for him that's never let go. Rose and fell, faded and flared, but never died. Always there in a corner of my heart, refusing to let me forget. When he touched me, when he looked at me, whenever something, anything stirred a memory. Whenever I was cold.

I could even pin down, to the very moment, when I'd stopped kidding myself - the night before he left the hospital for Africa. Finding him in the lounge, off-balance to begin with because I was so rarely alone with him anymore.

The quick spike of worry, the knowledge that I'd miss even what contact we'd had lately. Staring at him, knowing I should leave but unable to break free.

When his arms opened, when he tilted his head and looked at me with that unsure light in his eyes, I didn't stop to think before moving into that embrace. It felt so natural to go to him...so natural to feel him holding me again. I felt myself leaning into him...and panicked, pulled away. Fled.

And gave up. That moment of nearness, so familiar and right, brought back everything I'd been struggling to push away. I remembered all too clearly why I wanted him so much. So I accepted that, but knew it was never going to happen.

He left, and I tried not to dwell on him. Then they called to say he was dead.

I barely remember those days I spent in frozen horror. I don't want to. I shiver even thinking of it, and I don't want to remember how it felt to hurt so much. When we learned it had been a mistake, I wanted so badly to believe he might be alive, but couldn't bear to let myself until I saw him.

And then there he was. Pale, tired, but breathing. I spent the rest of that day unable to keep my thoughts from him, feeling as though I'd go insane with frustration until I finally escaped upstairs. When our eyes met for what felt like the first time all over again, for one stupid second I wondered. My recent grief was a fresh reminder that life was too damn short. This was like a second chance and maybe, maybe...

But there was Gillian, and then Sam and Alex, and I was throwing everything I had into med school. I watched him move on and tried to feel happy. I'd never been able to forget Gordana Horvat's words about the 'three children and a dog' she'd expected to find Luka raising. I wondered if that was what he wanted - a family, one that needed him. (And it was petty, but I had to admit it would be hard to find a pair more in need of help than the Taggarts.)

For almost two years, I watched as he made himself a part of their lives. Waited, with morbid anticipation, for the day he'd announce that he and Sam were engaged, she was pregnant with his child, and they were going to live happily ever after.

Only that day never came. And forget 'ever after' - they rarely looked happy even in the present. The entire ER watched their spats with varying degrees of bemusement, and I knew of more than one person who was relieved when we thought she'd gone for good. When she came back, the situation was still volatile.

Now she was doing it again. Not leaving the ER, but leaving Luka. I knew he was in pain, couldn't help but remember that this had happened before. Carol and her twins, shortly after I'd met him. And Nicole, carrying the baby he'd planned to be a father to.

And, of course, Danijela and Jasna and Marco before any of them. Now he was losing another family, and I watched him mourn that. I'd never liked seeing him with Sam, but this was almost worse.

**A million years have come and gone,**

**And I was sure by now I'd make it on my own.**

**But seeing you today**

**Took my breath away.**

**And I still long to hold you now and then.**

Tonight, I'd been alone with him once more. And my traitorous mind had started to wonder, maybe, maybe...

I shook my head in frustration. This was stupid, stupid, stupid for an endless list of reasons. I didn't want to chance the pain losing him again would bring. He didn't want me. Anything I might have felt from him lately was brought on by the rebound or the alcohol.

And above all, because it never worked. If every time my hopes came up, it was in vain, why should this time be different?

Maybe because they kept coming up. Maybe because there was a reason I'd never let him go. Maybe I hadn't been imagining all those times I thought he missed me.

No. I shook my head again, violently now. All the maybes in the world weren't worth the risk. They just weren't. Somehow, I got my legs moving. I had to get away, couldn't be this close without longing to be closer.

Maybe. Maybe someday I could walk away fast or far enough to leave him behind me.

Maybe.

**So I'll exist on dreams again,**

**On days when we were lovers and not just friends.**

**And even if I find another love in time,**

**I'll still long to hold you now and then.**

**Oh, I still long to hold you now and then.**


	2. Chapter 2

She didn't wonder where she was.

Wasn't that supposed to be the morning-after standard? You woke up and for a second couldn't remember where you were, who you were with, or how you'd gotten there?

She remembered. Not even the previous night, not at first. She remembered that waking up only felt like this when she was with one person, felt so right that she could have sworn it happened just like this yesterday morning, and the one before that, back and back without ceasing since the very first time.

That it hadn't was what took a moment or two to sink in. That years had passed between now and then, that by all rights she shouldn't be here. Shouldn't be, couldn't be...probably wasn't. With a sigh, she pushed her eyes open, and blinking the morning out of them tried to focus. Shades of white and tan swam in her vision, forming a pillow and a hand she vaguely recognized as her own.

Not alone, though. It lay nestled in another, much larger, one that absently stroked her fingers. Now she could feel the gesture; feel, too, a hard warmth under her neck. Slowly, slowly, she turned her head, following the arm to the sleeping figure it _couldn't_ belong to, it couldn't...

Luka.

Now the memories rushed back, defying her to dismiss them as fragments of a dream. Seeking him out, so hounded by sadness and anger that she couldn't separate the two. Taking refuge in the anger, ranting as he stood there, and was terrified to hear her words suddenly catching on sobs. She _didn't_ cry, not unless she was alone, certainly not in front of him, and she had to get away.

But before she could gather the will to do so he was holding her, with his eyes as well as the strength of his arms. He, too, looked uncertain, unsure, unable to stay the hands that rose to softly touch her face. As he bent, accommodating the familiar difference in their heights, she realized what was happening but couldn't move.

He breathed against her mouth a moment before he kissed her, a gasp or a sigh she wasn't sure. When the wake of dizzying sensation eased, they drew apart, staring at each other. Within them, sparks roared to a flame that took them over...

Now, she watched him sleep, calling herself every kind of a fool for coming here. And berating herself again for never wanting to go.

And later, much later, she turned to watch him walk away. Everything in her ached to call him back, though for what she wasn't even sure. Maybe to offer the hug they'd automatically moved in for, before remembering themselves and springing apart. But even as she drew in a deep breath, she knew it would be a mistake - just as going to him last night had been.

Granted, _that_ had been a heart-poundingly, mind-shatteringly 'nice' mistake, but foolish all the same. She couldn't bring herself to be that reckless twice in as many days.

He was right. They _were_ friends, after all...two good friends who could laugh this off as a rough night's stupidity.

She allowed her eyes a moment longer to follow him, as though despite everything he might look back. He didn't, of course, and finally she shook her head at herself and went inside.

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A/n: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! (anonymous01, the song is 'I Still Long to Hold You' by Reba McEntire.) And hi to the rest of the stubborn Lubies, who kept up hope when it seemed like the writers would never go there again. This season has been quite a reward for that patience, hasn't it?


	3. Chapter 3

She'd never been a maid of honor before. Not even a bridesmaid, for that matter.

A bride once, sure. Richard's sister had stood up for her then, along with another nurse who she'd asked out of desperation. Ever so considerately, her husband-to-be had also limited the number of his groomsmen to two so that she wouldn't look completely pathetic. It hadn't worked.

Abby just wasn't a 'friend' person. Neela asking her had almost surprised her as much as the news of the marriage. Sure, it was probably just because none of her family or friends from home could make it, but still.

Startling them both, she'd hugged the younger woman. And later, she'd stood on a stage with Jerry and Pratt, of all people, and watched Gallant walk her down the aisle.

Twirling her plastic fork in the too-sweet icing on her slice of cake, Abby glanced over at the couple now. Gallant was clapping to cheer on the limbo tournament just starting, arms still firmly around Neela's waist. She had to smile at the gesture, even if she shook her head at the same time.

So it was a bad idea. So it probably wouldn't work out. Maybe sometimes, you had to take a chance and just hope to hell you were wrong.

Her ears picked up the faint sound of a bell across the crowded, noisy restaurant. When she looked over at the door, Luka was there, shaking snow from his coat.

* * *

He'd stopped singing, she'd stopped laughing, and now there was only silence. He was waiting for her to get out of the car. She didn't know what she was waiting for.

In the silence, she could hear memories too well. Friends. Friends. That's all. Luka had driven her home because they were friends. There was no point in making more out of it.

A gust of wind swirled snow before the windshield. Abby shivered slightly, suddenly realizing that she was cold. He probably was, too. "Would you like -"

'- to come up for some hot chocolate?' she finished in her mind. Couldn't say it, because he'd somehow managed to turn around in the cramped front seat to press his lips to hers. And, dizzily, she noted that they were warmer and sweeter than the chocolate could ever hope to be.

* * *

For the second time in three days, they stumbled in the general direction of a bed, too intent on touching one another to look where they were going.

Second time. Three days. After four years. The thought didn't catch up to her until she lay above him, fighting to clear her mind of his bare skin against hers. "Do you really think we should be doing this?"

Then her back was against the sheets, eyes fixed on his, and she was kissing him again almost before he could murmur, "I do."


End file.
